


Zephyr

by Rocky_T



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Return to New Earth, many years later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The news did not come as a thunderclap, out of the blue. 

For a long time Janeway had suspected that something was amiss. Fatigue was normal; for most of her adult life she had never been one to sleep much, considering herself fortunate if she got more than five hours a night. She was used to being tired—but not to the point where she found it difficult to drag herself out of her desk chair to walk a few steps toward the replicator. And then there were the headaches; they’d started small, no more than a pinprick at her temples, easily relieved by a brisk rub. Soon, though, they'd grown until there was a constant pressure behind her eyes, at the nape of her neck. The pain had spread, to her chest and arms and legs, until she'd finally been driven to get some answers.

Lieutenant Barrett took a deep breath. He was a young man, looked to be barely out of medical school, and probably hadn't even been born when Voyager had returned thirty years ago. "I'm sorry, Admiral. The test results show—" he stopped, obviously unable to go on.

"I'm dying." After a lifetime in Starfleet, after everything she'd seen—and done—it was easy for her to say it. She was surprised, however, at the harshness in her voice. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Is it cancer?"

Barrett shook his head. "No. At least not in the conventional sense." He drew his hand over his face. "It appears to be a recurrence of the viral infection you contracted in the Delta Quadrant."

"But that was years ago!" Janeway protested. Of all the possibilities, that had never occurred to her. "And, as I'm sure you're aware, I was cured thanks to the Vidiians."

"Only temporarily cured, as things worked out."

Janeway lifted her head sharply at the new voice, and felt a stab of relief at seeing Voyager's former Emergency Medical Hologram enter the room.

"I came as soon as I could," the Doctor said, crossing to her and pressing her hand. As always, her skin registered the presence of something not-quite-tangible as it made contact with the forcefield holding together the photons that comprised his being. 

Barrett's relief at seeing his superior was palpable. "I was just explaining to Admiral Janeway—"

"—that she's suffering from a relapse of Delta Resolutian Virus, more commonly referred to these days as Tandoorian Chi Disease, after Dr. Tandoor Chi of Rigel IX who has studied the disease quite extensively…" the Doctor’s voice trailed off. "Well, that's neither here nor there at the present. What's important is that the disease is active in your system once again."

"How?" Janeway pressed. "Did the antiviral medication obtained from the Vidiians just wear off after forty years?"

"Hardly." The Doctor's smooth features—he alone had remained untouched by the vicissitudes of time, of course—momentarily crumpled. "It appears that your nanoprobes were somehow responsible in reactivating the viral proteins."

"But why _now_?" Somehow, she could not get over the passage of time. So many years had gone by; to be suddenly told she was dying due to such a long-ago event was something she simply couldn't grasp.

"We're not sure," Barrett said, uncertainty in his voice. "It could be due to a number of things. You recently contracted a bout of Somarian flu—"

"That was last winter," Janeway cut in. "And I recovered in record time, with no lasting ill-effects."

"Or it could be due to a genetic factor," Barrett went on. "Something in your genetic makeup just suddenly caused a recurrence." He studied his notes for a moment. "It could also be due to the nanoprobes themselves. Recent research seems to indicate a finite lifespan of between thirty and 40 years for the individual Borg drones. So, as you were 'activated' or rather, assimilated, approximately thirty years ago, this could well be within the normal operating parameters, for the nanoprobes to 'turn on' a virus already present in the body—"

"Or," said the Doctor, shooting a warning look at his younger colleague, "it could be that the Vidiian antidote wasn't perfect. Yes, they had an extensive medical database dealing with all sorts of diseases and immune system repercussions, but in the end, they were unable to cure the phage which was ravaging their species." He paused, doubtless thinking—as she was herself—how close the Vidiians came to extinction; they'd been saved, if that was the word, by their assimilation into the Borg Collective. "The point is, even with our own antivirals, the 'cure' doesn't last forever. Boosters need to be administered to maintain lifelong immunity, and even then, well, the results are less than perfect."

"So you're saying I need a booster?" Janeway asked.

Barrett and the Doctor exchanged glances. "No," the Doctor said. "We can try that, of course, but it's doubtful it will have any effect."

"What about this Tandoor Chi, who you said did extensive research on the disease?"

"Dr. Chi died fifteen years ago," Barrett answered dolorously. "And his research focused mainly on finding a connecting link between the Delta Quadrant virus and some lesser known but equally deadly Alpha Quadrant varieties."

"So that's it, then." Janeway closed her eyes for a moment. After a lifetime of facing death—particularly in the years in the Delta Quadrant when each day literally could have been her last—it was finally here. "How much time do I have?"

"That's a tricky question," the Doctor answered slowly. 

"How is that tricky?" Janeway exhaled impatiently. "Is there a cure or not? _Any_ type of treatment?"

"We do have certain therapies we can try, of course. Who knows, they may be of more than limited benefit. After all, medical science _has_ advanced over the past several decades, especially with—" The Doctor cut himself short. "What I meant is, based on our records of the earlier progression of the disease, no matter what treatment we attempt, it could be as little as a few weeks until you find it difficult to function."

Janeway felt a surge of impatience at his need for a euphemism. "Until I'm literally gasping for breath, you mean."

"If you wish to call it that, yes," the Doctor said, with a hint of his former tartness. His expression instantly changed. "I'm sorry, Admiral, it's not that I don't—"

"I understand," she said, resisting the urge to pat his arm. "I truly do." She looked out the window at the early autumn foliage. These offices in the Starfleet Medical Complex were on the fifty-first floor, towering high above the rest of the grounds on what had been the old Presidio. The sky was a clear blue, only a few puffy clouds marring it. As she watched, a silvery shuttle climbed in an arc, heading out over the ocean. 

She was dying. She waited for the surge of anger, for some other strong emotion. Instead, she felt…empty. _Aren't you also relieved?_ whispered a traitorous voice in her brain. _It's not like you've actually been living, not since you came home. After all these years of simply going through the motions, isn't it a relief to know this farce you call your life is finally ending?_

The Doctor cleared his throat. "There _is_ one other thing we could try that would have the greatest chance of success…"

Janeway turned to him, startled out of her morbid thoughts. "But I thought you said—?"

The Doctor and Barrett exchanged glances once more. "The disease was _not_ fatal the first time you contracted it, Admiral. It _nearly_ was, but you and Commander Chakotay found you had a natural immunity as long as you stayed on the planet surface where you—"

Janeway was on her feet without realizing it right away. "No. Absolutely not."

"A return to the planet you once called New Earth—"

"I said no." Janeway's eyes flashed; she didn't bother to control her anger. "That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard."

"We're not talking about a seventy years journey," the Doctor pointed out. "With the recent advances in ultrawarp technology, it would take about eight months total."

"And you've pointed out that I could be dying in as little as a few weeks from now." The brilliant scarlet and orange hues from the window caught her eye once more. "I won't even live to see winter."

Barrett cleared his throat nervously. "You could always be placed in stasis for the journey."

Janeway fought back a sudden memory of waking in the confines of a stasis tube, on a green hilltop. "That is not an option."

"But it is," the Doctor said, a little too eagerly. "It worked the first time—"

"I said, no." Janeway finished fastening the closure of her jacket and made her way to the door.

"Why won't you even consider it?" the Doctor demanded.

"Even if I wanted—" to go back there, she almost said. Instead, she drew a deep breath. "You think I can just commandeer a new ultrawarp ship and make my way back to the Delta Quadrant?" Janeway didn't bother to smother the laugh which rose to her throat.

"Starfleet Command—"

"Starfleet Command will do nothing. Nothing, do you understand?"

"You were the heroine of the Delta Quadrant," the Doctor reminded her. "You brought Voyager back, against all odds—"

"And as a thank you for my valorous service, I was promoted. Handed a medal and kicked upstairs," Janeway shot back. "So much for gratitude or my so-called 'star power.' I never had another field command." She could have kicked herself for the self-pity in her tone. "In the decades I've been back, what have I accomplished? Nothing that couldn't have been done by any other middle-ranked bureaucrat."

"Don't sell yourself short, Admiral."

"I'm not. It's called being honest." Janeway strode toward the door and then paused. "I want you to know, I appreciate your efforts on my behalf. Both of you. And now, I have to get back to my office. After all, I have to get my affairs in order."

~*~

"You're a stubborn woman, Kathryn Janeway."

"Tell me something I haven't heard before, Tom."

They were sitting on the deck in the back of the Paris home in Monterey, watching the sea lions in the bay at twilight. An untouched glass of iced tea sat at Janeway's elbow.

"Fine, you know you're being stubborn. What I don't understand is why you're simply giving up."

Janeway sighed and turned her attention away from the bay. "I've had a long life, Tom. This isn't exactly a tragedy." Not like Joe Carey, or Will Durst, or any of the other unfortunates who had died in the Delta Quadrant…

"You're only 72."

"And that's about thirty years more than I was ever sure I'd see," she said.

"The point is, you _have made it to this point, and you could have many more good years left. How old was your mother when she died? Forgive me for repeating myself, but I really don't understand you."_

_"I know you don't,” she said gently. Though he no longer resembled the handsome young pilot he'd been on Voyager, to her he would always be the same as he was, all those years ago. "There comes a time in everyone's life when you feel you've had a good run, you've accomplished all that you were meant to do. That time has come for me."_

_"In other words, you don't feel life has any more challenges for you."_

_"Well, it doesn't," she admitted. "Hasn't for a long time, as a matter of fact. I've never been one to believe in holding on just for the sake of holding on. It's time to just let go, Tom. More than time, to be perfectly honest."_

_"That's bullshit." Tom grabbed her hand and squeezed. "Feel that? As long as you can feel, you're still alive. It's a poor person—or nation, for that matter—that sits down and cries because life isn't what you expected it to be. Yes, your glory days on Voyager are over, Kathryn. They have been for a long time. Starfleet didn't reward you quite the way you expected? You could have left and gone on to something else. If you're not happy with your life, you have no one but yourself to blame."_

_"Touché." She turned back to the water, noticing the lights across the water beginning to come on. "That's what your father would have said, if he were here."_

_"That's what he did say," Tom said with a faint grin. "He never did understand why you stayed in Starfleet all those years."_

_"He of all people should have understood what it's like to have literally nowhere else to go," she murmured, forgetting for a moment who she was speaking to. She looked back at Owen's son. "But that's neither here nor there. You're acting like I'm willfully ending my life in a fit of pique."_

_"I'm not saying you're committing suicide, but what I can't understand is why you won't take the one chance you have to stay alive."_

_"Staying alive at the expense of leaving behind everything I have?" Janeway shook her head. "I've done that before, thank you, and I'm not eager to repeat it. Besides, this whole thing is based on too many assumptions—assumptions that have yet to be proven correct."_

_"You know that returning to that planet would arrest the progression of your disease."_

_"Do we?" she challenged him. "That worked, once. The disease was allegedly cured, once, long ago. And now it's come back, and it's killing me. Even if I _could_ return—and you're crazy if you think Starfleet would just hand me a ship and crew to go back there—there's no guarantee."_

_"If you're worried about the length of the journey—"_

_"No. Though of course that _is_ a viable concern." She lifted her glass of iced tea, then put it down again, untasted. "You didn't spend much time on the planet, did you?"_

_Tom shook his head. "I wasn't a member of the original landing party. Harry said it was lovely, 'closest thing to Paradise' is how he described it."_

_Janeway closed her eyes for a moment. "It _was_ lovely. As for being Paradise…well, it may have seemed like that, but there was also a snake in that particular Eden."_

_"You're referring to the plasma storms?"_

_Janeway nodded. "They came up suddenly, without any warning. And they were far more powerful than anything similar I've encountered elsewhere. The havoc they wreaked on our encampment—" She remembered the crashing noises above her, as the furniture was hurled against the walls of their suddenly vulnerable structure, of the feel of a pair of strong arms around her and a voice murmuring in her ear—"We almost didn’t survive."_

_"Weather and climate control technology have improved over the years," Tom said, taking a long swallow from his own glass._

_"Just like medical science," she answered wryly. "Face it, Tom, the idea of going back there, for any number of reasons, is simply crazy."_

_"That might not be as crazy as you might think," B'Elanna said, entering the deck. She took a seat next to her husband._

_Tom said, "If you can persuade her, B'Elanna, be my guest."_

_Janeway snorted softly. "Even if I could snap my fingers and miraculously find myself on the planet surface, there are no guarantees I wouldn't die anyway. There are too many unknowns."_

_"I'm not going to argue the medical science," B'Elanna said. "I'm an engineer, not a physician. Besides, I'm sure the Doctor has already gone over those aspects with you in full detail."_

_"He has," Janeway said. Tom sighed._

_"At any rate, going back to the Delta Quadrant is _not_ as far-fetched as you may believe." B’Elanna picked up Janeway's glass of tea and took a sip, then made a face. "Too much sugar," she muttered. Straightening herself once again, she looked at her former captain. "That call I got just now? It was a message from the Doctor."_

_"He tracked me down here?" Janeway said in exasperation. "Will he just give up already?"_

_"He didn't track you down, as you put it," B'Elanna said. "He wanted to give us some news, that we could pass on to you."_

_Janeway resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "All right, I'll bite. What news could he possibly have that would have any bearing on my condition?"_

_"As you know, Starfleet has been encouraging the recent wave of colonization attempts," B’Elanna said quietly. As a civilian engineer affiliated with the program, she had been intimately involved, particularly with the practical conversion of ultrawarp. "And with recent advances in technology, they've been setting their sights further afield."_

_Tom gave his wife an incredulous look. "Are you saying that they're considering sending a ship to New Earth?"_

_"Not just considering," B'Elanna said. She took a deep breath. "The plans are already drawn up."_

_Janeway's mind reeled. "I don't believe this."_

_"You'd better believe it, Kathryn, because it's true. The first colony ship is scheduled to leave in a matter of weeks."_

_"That doesn't mean I can, or should, be on it."_

_"Why not?" Tom said, leaning forward. "Because you're afraid of leaving Earth? Of heading out into space, which is where you're happier than you've ever been planet-bound? Because you've convinced yourself in the last two days since you received the news about your illness that it's far better to just give in and die?"_

_"It's not that…"_

_"Then what it is?" B'Elanna said. "Damn it, Kathryn, you couldn't ask for anything better than this!"_

_"Because…" Janeway took a moment to gather her thoughts. She hadn't seriously considered, not for a moment, the possibility of returning there. She fought to hold back the flood of memories, memories she'd locked away forever. It had been practically another lifetime, and she had certainly been a different person than the one who sat here now. Someone much softer, more vulnerable…_

_Perhaps sensing her weakness, Tom said gently, "They need you, Kathryn. The colony, that is. Someone who's been there before, who remembers what it's like. Think of it—you'd be doing something useful, something meaningful, once more. Something that only you can do."_

_She took a deep shuddering breath, and looked into the faces of her friends. Two of the dwindling few that remained. And remembered. "If you really think I should…" she hesitated._

_"Yes," B'Elanna said firmly. "You should definitely go."_

_"And even if there is no magical cure waiting at the end," Tom said softly, "at least you'll go out the way you should, fighting every step of the way."_

_Janeway glanced at the dark waters below them, and then up at the sky where the first stars were visible. "All right, then."_


	2. Chapter 2

A few short weeks later, Janeway stood at the spacedock. The huge floor to ceiling windows, tinted to cut down on the glare, showed a busy scene. Countless antigrav vehicles made their way to and from the large vessel, loading every possible thing the new colony would need. Even livestock would be transported in stasis. 

Janeway turned and picked up the duffel containing her personal effects. She had not elected to bring much with her, not on this particular journey. She had said her good-byes the day before, to those present on Earth. She had also sent recorded messages: to Vulcan, to the captain of a deep-space research vessel in the Gamma Quadrant, to the head of the Quantum Research Laboratory in the Carolis system. She had sent no others, because the dead did not require a formal farewell. 

But she did. "I'm going back, Chakotay," she whispered. "God, I can't believe I'm actually going back."

"Admiral Janeway!" She turned to see the Doctor bustling up. "I'm so glad I caught you before you left."

"You just saw me yesterday," she couldn't help reminding him. "When you gave me my last physical."

"This isn't for any official purpose," he admonished her. "I just wanted to wish you a good voyage."

"You know the chances of that are rather slim," Janeway said, her eyes upon the window once more.

"At the first sign of worsening symptoms, you will be placed into stasis," the Doctor said, temporarily distracted. 

"Yes, Doctor, so you told me," she said patiently.

"And even though it's a long journey—well, not as long as it was in our day, of course—you will have the very best of comforts."

"It's a colony ship, not a luxury liner," she said, before she could stop herself. She forced herself to relax. "Yes, I know. It will be fine. _I_ will be fine."

"And if you're not, well, communications will be ongoing via the old 'Pathfinder' prototype we used all those years ago. And as you're well aware, it's possible to send a holographic transmission as well as a regular datastream." He cleared his throat. "If you need me, Admiral, I'll be there."

She swallowed, suddenly overcome by tears. "I know you will." Obeying a sudden impulse, she pulled him to her in a hug. "I know you will, my friend."

~*~

After six hours of travel at sublight, to clear the outer reaches of the Sol system, the colony ship Zephyr sprang into warp. Janeway closed her eyes, feeling the change in the humming of the ship's systems, and looked out the viewport on the observation deck.

A small child, obviously engaged in a game of tag, bumped into her. "Sorry, lady!" he called out without missing a beat, intent on pursuing his friend.

"Mick!" exclaimed a harried woman. She turned to Janeway. "I'm so sorry. The kids have been so excited about the trip…"

"I understand." Janeway smiled gently. She was in civilian clothing, having resigned her Starfleet commission, and appreciated her newfound anonymity. "It's very exciting, setting off for a new planet. Are you Terran-born?"

"I am, but my husband's Halii and our kids were born on Alphacent." The woman sighed. "Seems like we're always pushing forward, no one ever seems to stay in one place anymore."

"That's been true throughout the history of mankind," Janeway said, her eyes on the stars once more. A thin wispy nebula, a ghostly blue, floated off the starboard bow of the ship.

"Yes, I suppose so," the woman said. "Mick! No! Put that down!" She hurried off after her wayward offspring, and Janeway was left alone.

~*~

The curved walls of the bio-bed, rising above her, blocked most of her vision, and Janeway bit back a restless sigh. As if sensing her impatience, a hand suddenly came into her line of sight, and she felt the neurostimulator being removed from her forehead. A few seconds more and the dome above her split, and then receded into the bed's recesses.

"All finished," said Anya Wolcjek, her eyes on the PADD in her other hand. "Good. Your systems are responding, at least in part, to the new therapy." She smiled, her round face suddenly appearing younger than the gray braids of her elaborate hairstyle made her seem. 

Janeway smiled back. She had liked the doctor's no-nonsense approach from the moment they'd met, an opinion reinforced with the passing weeks on board the ship. "So you're saying I'll live?"

"For now." Anya finished making her notations. "I consider it bad form to kill any of my patients, at least not until I've been treating them longer than just two months." She gripped Janeway's elbow, easing her to a sitting position. "All right, now?"

"I'm fine," Janeway said. And then—

_A warm breeze blew through the golden, waist-high grass. She was standing in the meadow, the late afternoon sunshine streaming through her long red hair. She spun around, breathing deeply, hearing the birdcalls in the valley below, where the river wound its way lazily to a distant falls._

_"Kathryn!"_

_She turned, and saw him. He was striding toward her, the sun at his back, its rays obscuring his face. But she would know him anywhere. "Kathryn!"_

"Kathryn!"

Janeway opened her eyes. She was lying once more on the biobed, and Anya's face was etched with concern above her.

"What happened?" Janeway said, and was stunned at how weak her voice was.

"I think you may have fainted. One minute you were sitting up, and the next you just collapsed…" Anya’s frown deepened. "No, lie there. I want to run some tests."

"I'm fine," Janeway said, and was gratified it seemed to be true. Indeed, she felt much stronger than she had only moments ago. She was about to move, but one look at Anya's face made her reconsider. She lay, with increasing impatience, until the doctor helped her upright once more. "What is it?"

"These readings…" Anya cleared her throat. "There was a change, a dip…and now they've righted themselves once more." She shook her head. "How do you feel? Any dizziness?"

"Just a little. But it's going away." Janeway took a deep breath. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure. What did you experience—a sudden blackout?"

"No, it wasn't like that. I was—" Janeway paused, suddenly a little embarrassed to go on. "It was like I was suddenly transported elsewhere."

"Ah." Anya's sharp eyes fastened on her face. "Where were you?"

"I was…you're going to think this is silly."

"Go on."

"I was suddenly standing on New Earth, in the meadow near our encampment. It was…years ago." Janeway hesitated. Anya's face was unreadable.

"Your brainwaves are reading perfectly normal. No sign of any hallucinations."

"I _wasn't_ hallucinating," Janeway said sharply. "At least, I don't think I was. It all seemed so real…"

Anya put down her mediwand. "As I said, no evidence of any hallucinations. Or any other mental disturbances."

"What do you think this was?"

It was Anya's turn to hesitate. "I'm not sure. Your body could be reacting to the new treatment protocols. They're experimental, as I explained to you when we initiated them."

"And so, my 'out of body' experience is just a side-effect of the drugs?"

Anya put her hand on Janeway's arm. "I've never been one to tell a patient that something they've experienced is simply 'all in her head', if that’s what you're thinking. I can only speculate—and that to a minimum extent. To all appearances, you fainted just now. What you've said, about suddenly finding yourself on New Earth, well, I can't prove or disprove it. I can only go by what I see."

"And what do you see?"

"I see a patient who is suffering from a terminal disease, but hasn't given up the fight just yet. If you had, you wouldn't have come upon this voyage, traveling thousands of light years to the planet you left decades ago."

"I have been thinking about it a lot lately," Janeway said. 

"That's only natural, and is as good an explanation as any I've got. The humanoid mind is very complex; I don't claim to be an expert."

Janeway nodded slowly. "So what happens next?"

Anya smiled gently. "You're free to leave, Kathryn. I'm not going to insist you stay in sickbay, if that's what you're afraid of. When did you last eat?"

"Breakfast, this morning."

"And now it's time for lunch. Go, get your blood sugar levels up. And I want you to check in with me again tomorrow. Sooner, if you have any more episodes of feeling faint. Or anything else."

"Yes, ma'am." She got to her feet and started for the door.

"And Kathryn…"

Janeway turned around. "Yes?"

"I'm here if you need me."

"Thank you," Janeway said.

~*~

As the journey stretched on, Janeway found herself interacting more with her fellow passengers. Two thousand seemed like a very large number—especially compared to Voyager's crew complement of 140—but in reality it was like living in a small village. By now, everyone knew everyone else, at least to some extent, and Janeway found she couldn't walk through the corridors without being greeted by name. And without realizing it, she found herself becoming friendly with quite a few people.

"Try it like this, Mick," Janeway urged, carefully placing her rod in the _kal-tor_. The boy caught his lower lip in his teeth, his concentration intense, as he attempted his next move.

The sphere shattered.

"Oh, darn! I'm never going to get this!" he said, in disgust. He began picking up the pieces and putting them in their box.

Janeway said, "I'm sorry, Mick. You almost had it. And," she added, in an effort to cheer him up, "look how much farther you got this time. Remember when we first started playing?"

As she had hoped, his face brightened. "That's right! One of these days I _am_ going to beat you. Betcha it'll happen before we get to our new planet!"

Smiling, Janeway ruffled his hair. "Now that's a bet I'm not willing to take!" She grimaced involuntarily as she attempted to shift her position, preparatory to rising. Mick was immediately at her side, the lightweight duranium cane held out to her. She gripped it and managed to get up without any further assistance. 

"What do you want to do now?" he asked, hopefully.

"Isn't it about time for your lessons?"

"That's not for another hour," Mick said. "Mom said I could play until 1400."

A glance at the chronometer proved him correct. "All right, Mick, what do you want to do?"

"How about a walk?" he suggested. When he saw her face fall, he immediately said, "I mean, in the arboretum. Just a short distance. And it's on the way to your quarters, after all."

Janeway debated internally for a moment and then smiled. "You're on." Together they left the recreation lounge, Mick slowing his steps to match her halting tread. Once inside the arboretum, he raced ahead, then turned and waited for her. 

"Hey, look at this! It's in bloom!"

Janeway looked in the direction he was pointing. "That's right, it is. That particular tree, Mick, only blooms once every seven years. Did you know that?"

" _Truffula viagris_ ," he read. "Native to the Rigellian system."

Janeway smiled at his enthusiasm as she made her way through the assorted greenery, breathing deeply the damp scented air. "And the fruits—"

_Her hand brushed the soil, supporting the small plant as she placed it in the newly-dug hole. Her long red hair whipped in the wind, and she brushed at it impatiently, leaving a dirt smudge on her cheek._

_"Now there's a sight I never thought I'd see!" he laughed as he came up behind her._

_She whirled around and smiled, too. "Laugh all you want, but we're going to have a bumper crop of Talaxian tomatoes—"_

"Talaxian tomatoes," she murmured out loud.

"Kathryn?"

Janeway opened her eyes. She was lying on her back, surrounded by greenery. Her fingernails were caked in dirt; she must have clutched at the plants as she fell. The shattered pots next to her told her she was correct. 

Mick was peering down at her anxiously.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his eyes wild. "I can get help, get my mom, or Dr. Anya."

She held out her hand in an effort to keep him from running off. "No. I'm fine, I just must have fainted."

"You said something about Talaxian or Tarakian tomatoes, and I was going to ask you what you meant because the card said its name was something else, and the next minute your eyes rolled up and I remembered what we learned about when someone is falling and I tried to help you—"

She waited a few seconds before trying to move. Just a few more seconds, and then she was bound to start feeling better. Just like she had after the other times—most of which, mercifully, had occurred when she was alone and hadn't made a public spectacle of herself. Like now. But the pain was not subsiding, or if it was, the change was so slight she couldn't tell. She cautiously rolled to her side and managed to get to a semi-sitting position. She tried to take a deep breath, which turned into a long, spasming cough. 

"I'm all right, Mick," she said, when she was able.

"Should I get the doctor?"

Janeway reached up to make some order of her hair, which had tumbled out of its neat bun, and felt the neurotransmitter on the back of her neck. Anya had insisted on fitting her with it only last week, as the 'episodes', as the doctor called them, had become more frequent. Janeway didn't feel like launching into a long explanation but felt compelled to say, "I'm sure she's already on her way."

As if to prove her correct, the door burst open and the medical team arrived.

"Are you all right?" Anya asked, as she whipped out her mediwand. Her face darkened as she read the results.

Janeway started to answer, helped by Mick, who was eager to recount his role as her rescuer, now that the crisis had passed.

Anya put down her PADD and interrupted. "Kathryn, I'm going to take you back to sickbay."

"But is that even necessary?" Janeway protested. Finally, it was getting easier to breathe. "This was just another incident of fainting—"

Anya cut her off. "There's been a change." She called for a site-to-site transport, and the next second, the transporter beam had whisked them both away.

Janeway closed her eyes briefly, concentrating on mastering the pain, then opened them once more. "Where is Mick?"

"Presumably on his way back to his quarters. He's not my primary concern right now, Kathryn. _You_ are.”

"What's going on? What do you see?"

"The treatments are not working anymore," Anya said. "I'm sorry." Janeway felt the hypospray against her neck.

"What was that?"

"Just aerosal, for pain relief." She consulted the medical readouts on the monitor. "And a dose of cortazidnet, to deal with the inflammation along your neural sheaths. According to these results, there's been a marked deterioration in the last few days. Why didn't you tell me you were feeling worse?"

Janeway sighed softly. "Would it have made a difference?"

Anya snorted. "I'm your doctor, Kathryn. I am responsible for your welfare, along with the welfare of everyone else on board this vessel. What kind of practitioner am I, if you die before planetfall?"

"Am I dying? I mean, at this moment."

"Not if I can help it." Anya summoned her nursing staff and began snapping out orders.

"What are you doing now? I thought you said the treatments aren't working any longer," Janeway said. Her mind was growing fuzzy, doubtless due to the medications she'd just received. She fought to maintain clarity.

"Lie still. No, they're not, but that doesn't mean we're entirely out of options." Another hypospray pressed her neck. "I'm going to put you under for a bit."

Janeway closed her eyes and felt the world recede from her.


	3. Chapter 3

_The sun glimmered among the trees. Dusk had already fallen in the little copse, but out on the high meadow, running in the waist-high grass, the light was still very strong. She ran, her blue skirt lifted in her hands. She heard a shout of laughter behind her._

_"Kathryn! Wait up!"_

_"Try and catch me," she taunted._

_The sound of his footfalls grew louder and with a final burst of speed he caught her arm. Tumbling down in the yellow grass, she caught his leg with her foot and brought him down as well. For a long moment, they lay there panting, catching their breath, and then he laughed again._

_"Almost there, Kathryn, almost there."_

_"The race isn't over yet," she told him, pushing her hair out of her eyes._

_"Not yet, it isn't," he agreed. "But soon."_

With an effort, Janeway stirred. She was lying on her back, still in sickbay. She could just turn her head to the side and make out the beeping machinery.

"How long?" she managed to say, her voice cracked and hoarse.

Anya was at her side instantly. "Are you asking how long you've been unconscious?"

Janeway grimaced. That wasn't what she'd meant, but it was useful information as well.

"You were out for three days. You might have regained consciousness earlier, but we kept you in an induced coma while we tried an emergency procedure…it may have gained us a little time. A few weeks, maybe a month or two, but that's all."

Janeway tried to answer. "So..."

Anya smoothed her hair back. "I've run out of options, Kathryn."

Janeway took a deep breath, or tried to. Her chest seized up with pain and she began to cough. When the spell passed, she said, "Now what?"

"Now we put you in stasis."

Every fiber of her being protested the thought of being sealed up, in suspended animation, in that narrow chamber. "But I don't--is it really necessary?"

"Will it do any good, you mean?"

Janeway bit back a sigh; Anya didn't understand. 

"It's a last ditch effort, I've said so before when we've discussed this. I can't slow the progression of the disease, but I can at least halt it for the remainder of our journey. Until we get to the planet."

Even then, there were no guarantees she would miraculously recover. Janeway closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calculate. "I'll be in stasis for the next three months, then."

"A little less, actually," Anya said, making an adjustment to the monitor nearest Janeway's head. "We've been making very good time. According to the captain's latest estimate, we should be approaching the planetary system in another 73 days."

The medical team brought in the chamber, and began making various adjustments. Janeway must have dozed, because all of a sudden, Anya was standing over her once more. 

But instead of telling her it was time, Anya said, "You've got a visitor."

"Who?"

"Hi," said Mick, a bit shyly as he came into view.

She struggled to raise her head so she could see him more clearly. "Hi."

"You're really sick," he said, concern puckering his forehead.

Janeway tried to smile. "So they tell me. But don't worry, Dr. Anya is doing everything she can."

Mick nodded. "That's what my mom says. She also said—" he broke off.

"What did your mom say?" Janeway prompted him.

"That you once lived on our planet, when you were in Starfleet. A long time ago."

A lifetime ago. _The best years of my life._

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, a note of accusation in his voice.

She looked up at the boy, at his earnest expression. "I'm sorry, Mick. I haven't exactly kept it a secret but…does it really matter?"

"Of course it does!" he said, incredulously. "You could've told me what it was like!"

"To be in Starfleet?" she asked.

"Yeah, but more importantly, to be on our planet! We could have made plans to see it together—you could tell me stories about what it was like to live there, and then when we get there you could take me to the places you were…"

"I'm afraid Kathryn isn't quite up to telling any stories now," Anya said, placing her hand on Mick's shoulder, preparatory to drawing him away. 

"She isn't going to die, is she?" There was panic in his voice now. "I don't want you to die, Kathryn!"

"I'm not—" Janeway began to say, and then fell silent. "I don't want to die, either, Mick. I want to live." She realized with astonishment that it was true.

A hypospray pressed against her neck. Janeway felt its effects immediately; it was suddenly hard to stay awake.

"Maybe I could come back later?" Mick's eyes were bright with unshed tears.

Janeway tried to rouse herself from the sinking feeling that was enveloping her. "That's a good idea," Anya replied.

"And then when you're better, and we're in our new home, you _will_ show me around, right? Hey, maybe we could even plant a garden. You know, with the plants in the arboretum. Maybe we could even find some Talaxian tomatoes."

"Yes," she whispered. "We'll do that."

_The Doctor glanced down at her, his expression doleful. "I'm sorry, Captain. There's nothing I can do. The Commander has already collapsed, and I've run out of options. This disease ravaging your systems…If I had more time…but I don't. Unless we put you into stasis. It's the only way."_

_Janeway nodded, or tried to, in the narrow confines of the stasis chamber. "All right, then. But you've got to bring us out the instant you find a cure."_

_"If I can." The Doctor’s unwonted modesty struck her as being wrong. In the little more than a year since he'd been pressed into service, she had never before heard him admit something was beyond his capacity._

_"So. If you can't find a cure?" She knew, with a sinking heart, what he was going to say._

_"Then we'll be forced to leave you on the planet, Captain. It's the only way."_

The medical team was just a blur of faces and disjointed voices.

"Stand by for site-to-site transport into the chamber."

"She's going into cardiac arrest!"

"Get me 20 cc of trufadine!"

"Charging the paddles…"

"Clear!"

"Again!"

"Clear!"

"Damn it, Kathryn, fight!"

"Clear!"

"We've got a pulse now, Doctor. Heart rate steady."

"Blood pressure still low, but measurable."

"All right, she's stable, let's get her into the stasis unit. Quickly!"

"I don't want to die," she whispered, so low that no one heard her, as the panel slid shut over her head.

_The sun had set hours earlier, and Janeway stood by the door of their cabin, breathing in the cool air. In the moonlight, a shining path of silver led to the high meadow she’d explored that afternoon when she’d been setting out her traps. The stars had come out, and she lazily traced patterns among them._

_In the distance she heard a splash of water._

_"There! That's the last one," he said, coming up the path, the empty bucket in his hand. "Your bath, madam, awaits."_

_"Why thank you," she said with a smile. "Care to join me?"_

_He glanced down at his sweaty clothes, and shook his head. "Maybe later. I've still got things to finish up. We can't all be ladies of leisure, you know."_

_"Lady of leisure?" she said, rolling her eyes. "Is that what you think of me?"_

_"I know, I know, you've been busy all day, too. But now your work is finished."_

~*~

The Emergency Medical Hologram, newly downloaded into a mobile emitter, strode into sickbay. "What's her status?" he barked.

Anya started to reply, but he brushed her off. "How long has she been in stasis?"

"Four weeks."

"I told you to notify me immediately if it became necessary to put her in stasis!" The Doctor exploded. "You should have contacted me _months_ ago, as soon as it became evident the treatment protocol was failing!"

"We did the best we could at the time!" Anya said, her own temper flaring. "If you'll check the reports, you'll see that there was nothing _you_ could have done had you been with us earlier. And as for why we waited to contact you, we had to wait till we had reached the next communication node. You were notified as soon as possible."

The Doctor’s wrath faded a bit as he scrolled through the data on the monitor. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Anya accepted his apology as gracefully as she could, under the circumstances. She knew he was worried about Kathryn; she was as well. "But I'm afraid we have a different problem." She reached across him, and called up the most recent data. "These readings are from the last 12 hours. If you'll compare them to those of 24 hours ago, you'll see—"

"The disease is still progressing, even with her in stasis," he finished. "How can that be?"

"You're the resident expert, Doctor," Anya said, folding her arms. "You tell me."

The Doctor quickly checked the seals on the stasis unit, then the power couplings. "The tube isn't malfunctioning. The stasis field is at 100% integrity."

"It's possible," Anya admitted, "that we waited too long to put her into stasis. But she was so adamant about refusing it until it was absolutely necessary…"

"She always was very stubborn," the Doctor said. His eyes were intent on the tube as if he could penetrate it with a glance. As she watched, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I estimate that, at the current rate of decline, in another 6 hours she'll be gone," Anya said quietly.

"Then there's nothing more we can do," the Doctor said. He placed his hand on the faceplate of the chamber and bowed his head.

~*~

Eight months, two weeks and four days after her launch from Utopia Planitia, the colony ship achieved orbit around the planet, heretofore known as "New Earth" and now recorded in the official log as Zephyr, following the ages-long tradition of colonization. The climate-control satellites were already in position when the first of the new settlers made planetfall, and proceeded to erect the prefab shelters of their homes. There was much to do, and everyone, down to the youngest child, had tasks to perform.

On a quiet hilltop, above a lazy winding river, Kathryn Janeway was laid to rest. The local season was spring, and by late summer, laughing children ran and played among the tall yellow grasses, in the shadow of the simple marker that bore her name. 

Not far away, a small garden bloomed.


End file.
